


Inquisition

by sherlockian4evr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM Scene, Bondage, M/M, Riding Crops, Roleplay, Top!Lestrade, Wax Play, bottom!Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4541826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>I have this idea of Mycroft and Lestrade role playing that Mycroft is a suspect and Lestrade questions him. With amorous consequences.<br/>"And believe me, if you don't confess, I shall come down on you hard."</p><p>Beta read by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110">Sherlock1110.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Inquisition

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Crime he Didn't Commit.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567806) by [Sherlock1110](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110). 



Greg had cleared the centre of the living room, replacing the coffee table with a sturdy metal chair and a small fold up table. On the table was a small directional lamp that he had aimed so that its light fell on the chair. One more thing was needed. He went into the bedroom, grabbing the metal toolbox that he had purchased just for the occasion. Working quickly, he filled it with the items that he would need then took it back to the living room and placed it on the table. Nodding to himself, he decided that everything was ready. All that was left to do was wait.

Wait, he did. Greg flipped all the lights off and leaned against the wall a few feet inside the door, arms folded and nightstick in hand. They had talked about this ascension before and Lestrade was confident that it was something that Mycroft would enjoy, but they hadn't set a day or time to enact it. He didn't fancy being taken down by the government official's well-honed reflexes, so he would be certain to allow Mycroft time to register his presence before engaging him.

If Mycroft were going to be late he would have called. If he couldn't call, Anthea would have texted. Since neither had happened, Greg didn't have to wait long. When he arrived home, the government official paused in the doorway and ported into the gloom. Spotting Greg, he assessed the situation rapidly. Mycroft's pupils dilated and he could feel both his heart rate and breathing accelerate.

Lestrade grinned widely when the government official's umbrella clattered to the floor then he schooled his expression to something more appropriate - something harsh. As soon as Mycroft had closed and locked the door, the DI launched himself across the intervening space and shoved the government official up against the wall. He brought his nightstick up and pressed it against Mycroft's throat, shoving his head up roughly against the upper edge of the nightstick.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes," Greg said in a threatening tone. "We have things to talk about. You've been extremely naughty."

"I don't know what you're taking about," came Mycroft's reply.

"Surely you don't think you'll get away with it. You'll tell me what I need to know. Every little detail.” 

Mycroft's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "You can't make me talk."

"I beg to differ, Mr. Holmes." The DI nudged his knee between the other man's thighs. “I can and will make you talk."

"Never. You've got it all wrong. I..."

Greg pushed up with the nightstick just a bit more. "I don't want to hear anything from you that's not a confession. Now strip."

Moving slowly, as if reluctant, Mycroft did just that. He removed his coat, waistcoat and shirt. 

"Stop. Leave the vest and your pants when you get there," Lestrade ordered.

Hands dropping to the fastening of his trousers, the government official made quick work of them, toeing off his shoes and socks at the same time. He was left standing in his vest and pants, his hands down at his sides.

"Now then, Mr. Holmes, you're going to go over there and lay across that chair," Greg gestured toward the metal chair in the centre of the room. "Don't make me get rough with you. Just do it." He took a step back, allowing Mycroft to move.

The government official went and lay on the chair without putting up a fight. Greg followed and, taking the restraints from the metal box, cuffed him by the wrists and ankles to the chair. Next, the DI stood and began removing items from the box one at a time. He held each one up in front of Mycroft's face: black candles and lighter, Wattenberg pinwheel, riding crop, metal anal beads, a set of graduated anal plugs, a bag of clothespins and heavy duty safety scissors. He had no intention of using all of the equipment, but he liked how it set the mood.

Mycroft's breathing was coming fast. Lestrade looked him over from head to toe, then ran a hand along his spine.

"I’ll give you just this one chance. Tell me what I need to know."

His prisoner turned his head away and gave no response.

“Very well, then.” Greg picked up the scissors from the table and ran them along the back of Mycroft’s neck, down along his back and rested them just beneath the edge of his vest at his waist. He used them to slice through the hem of the government official’s vest. The DI slid one hand along his prisoner’s lower back then, with a quick motion, he ripped the vest open and exposed a wide expanse of Mycroft’s smooth flesh. A couple more snips, and the sleeves of the vest were sliced open and he was able to pull the tattered cloth from beneath his prisoner. 

Walking once around Mycroft, Greg picked up a black candle and lighter. He knelt by the chair and held the candle up in front of his prisoner’s face. With a quick flick, the lighter came to life. Lestrade deliberately lit the candle and held it so that a drop of wax fell. Mycroft’s eyes tracked it to where it puddled in a small splat on the floor then jerked back to his interrogator’s face.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Holmes. We’re just getting started.” Greg gave a wicked grin. “Remember, all you have to do to make it stop is talk. You know what I want to hear.”

Mycroft did know. Greg wanted to know his birthday of all things. The government official had refused to tell him. He didn’t like birthday celebrations and he was sure that that was what Greg had in mind. Oddly, that bit of defiance on his part had let to a discussion about the possibility of the scenario that was being acted out. “Go ahead then, do your worst,” Mycroft growled. He truly had no intention of talking.

Standing, Greg moved around to Mycroft’s side. He held the candle inverted over the centre of his prisoner’s back and let it drip. The government official let out a small hiss and shifted slightly on the chair. The candle continued to drip and Lestrade moved it to hover over different portions of Mycroft’s back. Some drops hardened almost instantly. Others slid down his back in cooling rivulets. The government official twitched and hissed as each square inch of his back was covered. 

“Do you really thing that’s enough to make me talk?" Mycroft asked.

“Perhaps not, Mr. Holmes,” Greg replied, “but I thought it would warm you up. Heighten your senses, so to speak.” This was affecting him more than he anticipated, Lestrade was painfully hard. He decided to go straight for the riding crop. He started to run the tip of the riding crop across Mycroft’s lips but the other man turned his head away. Grabbing him by the hair, he pulled his head up and back. “None of that, now. You’ll take what I give you, and believe me, if you don't confess, I shall come down on you hard – in more ways than one."

Mycroft growled and tried to pull his head away but Lestrade held tight. The DI brought the riding crop down across his prisoner’s arse and smiled when the other man bucked. Another strike followed soon after the first. Then another. Another.

“Fuck you!” Mycroft yelled, sounding defiant, but secretly loving the sting and bite of the crop.

Greg hid a smile. It wasn’t often that the government official swore. Mycroft was playing his role perfectly. Lestrade continued, delivering six more strikes before stopping. “Are you ready to talk,” he asked.

At this, Mycroft practically spat, “Go to hell!”

“Then you leave me no choice.” Greg forced himself to sound dispassionate, but he was anything but. Taking the lube from the metal box on the table, he slicked up his fingers and cock and knelt behind his prisoner. Working perfunctorily, he thrust two fingers into Mycroft’s hole at once. His prisoner jerked at the sudden and unforgiving intrusion. The burn was strong and didn’t get better when Greg scissored his fingers as widely as possible. Far too soon for most, Lestrade added a third finger. At this, Mycroft groaned. He relished the sensation of being stretched coldly and fast, so much so that he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning the DI’s name. Greg worked his prisoner’s entrance just long enough to ensure that he wouldn’t hurt the man when he penetrated him. The entire time, he had been sure to avoid stroking over Mycroft’s prostate. Finally, it was time to replace his fingers with his cock. “I’m going to use you. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll be begging to confess and I won’t let you come until you do.”

“I don’t beg, not for you or for anyone else.” Mycroft managed to sound defiant, though he was anything but. His cock was incredibly hard and it was already dribbling pre-come. Christ, but he wanted this.

Greg lined his cock up with Mycroft’s hole and slid home in one smooth motion. He paused briefly, listening for the other man’s safeword. When it wasn’t forthcoming, he pulled back out and drove in again. Hard. Lestrade was careful to pick an angle that would avoid the other man’s prostate and set a punishing pace. Mycroft was rocking beneath him on the metal chair, little moans and gasps escaping his lips.

It was all that Mycroft could do to not break down and beg. He held his breath until his head was spinning slightly. Above him, Greg was panting as he moved. The DI was getting close. Mycroft had no doubt that the DI would quite happily come and leave him wanting. Lestrade was a very determined man.

“Please,” Mycroft called softly, then, “Please!”

Greg brought his hips to a stuttering halt. “Please, what?”

“I… I’m guilty,” Mycroft panted. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“There’s only one thing I want to know,” Greg barked. “Tell me and I’ll let you come.”

“October 17th. Now please…”

“I knew you would break.” Greg began to thrust again. “All too easy.”

Mycroft wanted to snap something back, but he didn’t want to risk causing Lestrade to change his mind. He didn’t fight it anymore. The DI’s name slipped past his lips. “Gregory… Feels so good. I… Going to come.”

Lestrade fell out of role. “Go ahead, Myc. Come for me.”

The government official bucked up once, his cock twitching beneath him against the surface of the metal chair. When he came, his sight narrowed down to a tunnel then went white. The muscles of his entrance clamped down hard on Greg’s cock. The DI gasped at the sensation, then he was coming in long shudders inside of Mycroft.

After he rode out his orgasm, Lestrade fell forward over the government official. He lay there for a moment, then roused himself enough to release Mycroft’s restraints. Together, the slid down to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

“That was delightful, Gregory. You were quite creative,” Mycroft observed.

Grinning widely, Greg answered, “Glad I could oblige.” He let out a long satisfied breath. “I don’t know what information I’ll have to pull out of you next time. Your favourite type of cake, perhaps.”

Mycroft shot him a glare. “I swear, Gregory. If you are planning a party for me, I’ll be sure to annoy my brother with random visits during your next three cases. He’ll be even more insufferable than usual.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.


End file.
